The Labor of Love
by I'm Making Your Love
Summary: Severus Snape visits a dying woman at a hospital, now at the withering age of seventynine. To this woman he relays a past story and reveals the tale of the love of his life during his younger years as a student. SnapeOC Full summary inside! Please Review


**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of J.K. Rowling's characters, nor am I making any profit whatsoever with this selection.

**A/N:** Hello everyone, and welcome to my newest Harry Potter fan fiction. As I'm sure you have realized, it is a romance fiction between Severus Snape and an original character of mine. It is set during Snape's seventh year at Hogwarts as a student – sort of. It has a happy ending – but not really, kind of. It's just one of those things you'll have to read. However, I will provide a summary. Also, I know that a lot of this is italicized, but that is only because most of the story isn't going to be. I know, it doesn't make sense right now, but you'll understand as you go. Read away and enjoy.

**Summary:** Severus Snape, now at the withering age of seventy-nine, goes for an unexpected visit to a dying woman – Servalen - at St. Mungo's Hospital. As she remains bedridden in her final hours before leukemia steals her last breath, she listens – albeit reluctantly – to the story of the old man she's never seen before, and yet recognizes. Severus, full of regret and remorse, relays the tale of his last few months as a student of Hogwarts and the fateful meeting between him and a girl that changes his life forever. Questions will be answered, broken promises forgiven, and friendships will crumble and rebuild themselves as the enigmatic professor opens an emotional and hidden chapter of the younger years of his life. The question is, will Servalen be willing to read it?

**Labor of Love**

**Chapter One: As the Crow Flies**

'_Twas a dark and stormy night….Well, not really. In fact, it was a fairly nice day, now that I look at it. Not a cloud in the sky either, if I do recall correctly. To be quite honest, I will admit now that I am rather horrid with opening paragraphs. So, yes, I agree with you that my opening sentence was a horrible cliché- …perhaps I should just shut my mouth and get on with it. Severus is giving me quite the look. So, without further ado:_

'_Twas a bright and sunny day, with not a wisp of cloud in sight to block the welcomed rays of early spring. A sort of brisk stillness lingered in the air as winter tried to cling desperately to time and prolong its stay, but as the man glanced about quickly, he could see that the melting leftovers of snow and slush were evidence enough that spring was well on its way._

_He took a halting breath, pausing in front of the large, wash-white wall that led into the building. He glanced painfully at the purple, cursive scribe on a large panel just above him, reading, 'St. Mungo's Hospital'. _

_Before a second thought could stop him, he grimaced in determination and took a step forward, making his way through the entrance, billowing black robes and all. _

_**Crack**. She jumped back into consciousness, her breath caught in her lungs and a look of shock on her face at the sudden interruption. Taking in her surroundings, she realized it was just the sound of another visitor apparating outside, and she let out the breath she'd been holding. She growled in frustration at whomever or whatever produced the noise; she was so very close to getting a full hour of sleep._

_Not that they were loud, oh no. She was much too high up to hardly notice the apparation noises normally, and so she wondered now why one had suddenly awoken her. She was enjoying her nap._

_She blanched as her throat gurgled in protest of the irritated grunts, and she fell into a fit of coughing and hacking hoarsely into her hand. Luckily enough for her, there was no blood this time, and so as the fit subsided she leaned back against her pillow and sighed in relief. _

_Her eyes skimmed over her room for possibly the thousandth time, and for the thousandth time, she wondered how much longer she had. _

_The four walls cubed around her existence were white; clean, shiny, almost like slate or marble. On the wall to her right, a small billboard hung for patients to pin up their cards or letters from loved ones, and even hers' had a few on it from some friends and family. Behind her, next to the bed was a window that was opened the smallest crack, and flowing, lime-green curtains that fluttered just barely at the occasional breeze. A plastic bag with clear liquid in it hung heavily on a tall, metal stand with wheels, and a long, white tube connected the bag to a needle in the top of her hand. There were too many blankets on her over-sized hospital bed, but she didn't feel she had the energy to move them. Surrounding her were many machines and devices of all different sorts that she couldn't even begin to name, each with their own click or beep, and each serving some purpose or another. Next to her was a grey visitor's seat that was more often than not empty, but she wouldn't dwell on that thought, not now._

_She sighed again, feeling the weakness engulf her with each breath, and slid her eyes closed. So tired…she was so tired…._

"_Miss Servalen?"_

_Those same eyes snapped open, drifted toward the source of her name, and stared questioningly as her nurse - Tulip, was it? – poked her rounded, homely face through the door._

_The nurse smiled, the expression settling_ _sweetly on her pudgy face, and she said in a motherly voice, "Good morning, Servalen. You have a visitor."_

_So, her family had decided to come after all. Surely they would want to visit her on what was probably her last living day. She had been foolish to think they wouldn't! Even **they** couldn't be that busy._

"_Do you feel up to some company?" Nurse Tulip added with a hint of compassion in her eye._

_Servalen answered instantly, eager to see her family – oh, she did hope Edgar and Marjory had come! – And nodded a bit, "Y-yes, of course."_

_Tulip withdrew from the doorway and, to Servalen's surprise, a man she did not recognize was ushered into the room. He wore a thick, long black cloak with a lengthy scarf about his neck bearing different shades of green, and in his gloved hands he gripped a sleek, leather suitcase. Who was this? Was there possibly some mistake?_

_Though she was sure there was some mix-up that was proved wrong as Tulip shut the door behind the man, and he turned to face her, but did not seem surprised. In fact, she wasn't sure what he was thinking or feeling, as his expression was quite bland._

_She laid there for the time being quietly, as things were very still, and only when he approached and sat in the visitor's chair did she speak._

"_Er…hello? You must have the wrong room, sir..."_

_His dark eyes flitted to her immediately as she spoke the first word and their gazes met. She stared into his own eyes, and shuddered when she saw that they were alarmingly darker than hers. She had never met anyone with eyes as dark as those, let alone darker than her own._

"_You are Miss Servalen, Room 9914, correct?" he replied with a sharp quip in his voice, though it was husky with age._

"_Yes, that is I…." she said in suspicion._

"_Then I assure you, this is the right room." He replied with finality, and she knew that was the end of that._

_He sat the suitcase on his lap and flipped the latches open, lifting the lid, and began emptying the contents in silence, setting things on the small end table next to her bed. Tea cups, a bag of biscuits, a bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey (she raised an eyebrow at this), a small, metal case, a photograph album, and an assortment of other items and trinkets. It seemed he was going to be here a while, whoever this was. She grew distracted as she noticed a picture etched into his heavy cloak, and with closer inspection she realized it was the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry emblem. She also noticed a large, decorative "S" knitted into the end of his green scarf, and she understood that he must work there._

"_If I do recall, that is the coat of arms for Slytherin." It was a statement, not a question._

_He paused as she spoke, and nodded vaguely, answering in a half-whisper, "Yes, it is."_

_Several minutes passed before he was done unloading his suitcase, and as he clipped the latches back shut and leaned back comfortably in the chair, there was a dead silence between them._

_This seemed to go on forever, before Servalen finally mustered, "Who are you?"_

_Once again, his eyes flitted instantly to hers', as in if in a glance, but a lingering one instead, and she observed that this must be some habit of his._

_The man before her sighed deeply, looking away, avoiding her gaze, as he said, "My name is Severus Snape, and I have come with news of your father."_

_It would not have shocked her more if he had suddenly poured a large bucket of Terrilap slugs on her head that very moment._

_She glanced sharply at him, her body suddenly tense with a hidden rage, and her glare did not take pity on the man._

"_My father?" she snapped severely, "My father is long past dead. Your name is not familiar to me. Please leave, professor, I do not know you and I don't think I want to." She then averted her gaze to the opposite wall and fell eerily quiet._

_There was a long pause, and she would not look at him, but she knew he was still there._

"_You assume too much, Miss Servalen."_

_Servalen turned back to him with an awestruck expression at his forwardness. Was that amusement in his voice?_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Rest assured, Miss Servalen. Your father is quite alive and well. And what makes you think that I am a professor?"_

"_B-but…" she stuttered, skipping past the first assumption for now, "you're wearing the symbols…do you not work at Hogwarts?"_

_Severus slid down his seat a bit, getting comfortable, and nodded affectionately at the thought of the school, "Ah, yes, I do. However, I am no professor. I am more commonly addressed as Headmaster Snape."_

_Servalen was not sure how to take this; the Headmaster? She really had been inside for much too long._

_Avoiding his ever watchful eyes, she noticed that this man was considerably older than he let on. Though the contours of his face were lined endlessly with weathered age and permanent creases, and though his hair – long and pulled back in a sort of loose bit of ribbon – was a pure white with random wisps of silver, he moved about with the energy of a simple-minded youth. He was even starting to sprout a silver goatee, the beginning of what would soon be the traditional beard of the many headmasters before him._

_Though she was sure she had never seen this man in her life, there was something a bit familiar about him. She wasn't sure. He wore small, circular spectacles, but they did little to hide the hook of his prominent nose, and the deeper lines branching from the sides of his nose were ones she had seen before, along with those branching off the corners of his mouth. Above his white-silver eyebrows were frown dimples, forever branded into their places, which she had also seen before. _

"_You…I've seen you before…." Servalen whispered aloud, more to herself than him, and to her surprise, he replied._

"_Unfortunately, that is also an assumption, but you are quite close to the fact in the fiction."_

_She reluctantly met his gaze again. "How far is Hogwarts from here?"_

_His eyes twinkled a bit before he said, "As the crow flies, about seventy kilometers or so. But I simply apparated, though I do regret doing so now. I was a bit…stressed, and so my apparation was a tad louder than it should have been; frightened half the employees to death."_

_A faint smile twitched his lips – oh how familiar! – and Servalen fought the one her own mouth tried to return._

"_Speaking of regret," he continued, his voice taking on a darker tone as he dropped his stare to the floor, "I have also come to apologize."_

"_Apologize? For what?" She sounded bewildered, but she wasn't sure she wanted to hear more._

_Severus looked at her for a minute, and then instead of answering her question, replied, "What do you know about your father, Miss Servalen?"_

_Servalen's eyes sharpened again, and without missing a beat growled under her breath. "Why do you keep bringing up my father as if you know him?"_

"_Because I do." _

_She stared at him in silence, her glare never softening against his compassionate gaze. _

"_All I know," she said steadily, "is that he left my mother and me flat before I was even born. He never visited us. I don't even know what his name was, for I share my mother's. I've never seen him, and frankly, I don't really want to. He never cared about my mother or me in our entire lives, so I proudly say that the feeling is quite mutual."_

_Her words visibly hurt him, and he squeezed his eyes shut to fight the wince of pain that wanted to follow. A deep frown dawned his face, and he quietly responded, "That's not true."_

"_What do you know? Nothing, alright?" she was clearly upset, and he shrunk back as she spoke, "If you know so much, oh high and mighty headmaster, then go on. Tell me who my father is."_

_She was being sarcastic when she said this, and her fingers were just an itch away from the red button – if she could just press it and call the nurse for help, she could get him out of here – but his voice brought her fingertips to a halt._

_Severus spoke so softly, she could hardly hear, and his words merely dripped with pent-up emotion. _

"_I am."_

_The silence that followed that moment was so intense; Severus feared that he would be tempted to gouge his own ears out by the time either of them decided to speak. Though he wanted to remedy this, he wasn't sure what to say, and he supposed she wasn't either. _

_He dared another glance at his daughter, and again, he couldn't look away. In some ways, she was so like her mother, and then in other ways, it was like looking in a mirror. _

_Although he was wrought with sorrow from the memories he would soon bring up, he also wanted to dance about in glee, shouting and singing songs of old. His eyes, by gods and Merlin's arse, she had his eyes!_

_Though they were not quite as dark as his, they were nowhere near the steady blue of her mother's, and they were rather darker than most of the eyes he'd seen throughout his life. _

_Speaking of those eyes, he could see in them now, see her eyes gleam in recognition as she pieced physical appearances together and things began to make sense. Yes. Her hair was definitely not his, but the reddish brown of her mother's, though now it was graying with age. He mentally blanched at that thought._

_This year, by the ninth of last month would have made her sixty-one years old, and the years had not been kind to her. Though her face was almost more worn than his own, he was able to compare that as well. Her nose was not as prominent, but there was definitely a hook in the bridge they shared. Aside from those, she was much more physically similar to her mother._

_Severus knew he was not a good-looking man, even in his younger years, but he noticed with pride that, while his daughter was not beautiful, she was still fairly pretty, even at her age._

_His thoughts were interrupted as the sound of her voice – he mentally blanched again at how weak it sounded – and his attention snapped back to her immediately._

"_You…you have some nerve, coming to see me."_

_He sensed the hiss in her words, and knew she would not take this well._

"_Get the hell out. Now."_

_Severus met Servalen's gaze bravely, his full of remorse and sorrow, hers' full of rage and a much more hidden hurt. "Servalen, pl-"_

"_I said get out!" she tried to shout, but only succeeded in raising her voice somewhat, and the strain quickly brought her into a hacking fit._

_Severus was at her side in a second, rubbing her back softly and pulling out a green Slytherin handkerchief. He held it to her mouth as she coughed uncontrollably, and he had to hold back the tears as he saw a few drops of blood stain the cloth._

_As she finally sat back and relaxed, he sat back down, tossing the handkerchief on the end table and listened to her haggard and shallow breathing._

"_Wha…What the hell…do you…want?" Servalen forced out, coughing a few times again while catching her breath._

_He placed the fingertips of his hands together thoughtfully, propping his right leg up to rest on his other knee comfortably, and seemed to stare blankly at a space on the wall just behind her._

_After a prolonged stillness, his voice surprised even himself. "I have come to apologize, Servalen, because I know I haven't been there for you. But in doing so, allow me to explain, and to fill you in on…how you came to be."_

_He dared not meet her eyes, not just yet he wouldn't. He would make sure she wanted to hear first, make sure she wanted this. He was afraid if he met her eyes, he would remember all too quickly, and back out before it was too late._

_There was another one of those long silences, and it would have been wonderful for her to say no and make him leave. Maybe then it would make our ending happier, and maybe they both wouldn't be as heartbroken. In fact, I should just make them do that –_

_But then, there'd be no story. _

_The stillness was broken, and his ears prickled at the quiet whisper of, "Go on."_

_Severus sighed deeply, as he finally met her gaze. It held the same anger, the same hurt – toward him – but there was also curiosity, and that is what drove him to continue._

_A deep breath, a small cough, and the tick-tocking of the wall clock, and the headmaster spoke._

"_It began," he said in a voice only a grandfather could accomplish, "in my seventh year at Hogwarts…."_

"Wingardium leviosa!"

The excessive laughter that followed the command only added insult to injury. Severus immediately felt his body being lifted by an unseen force and flipped upside down. His stomach churned as he shouted in surprise, and the books he once clasped in his fingers slipped to the ground as his arms hung limply over his head. His mind whirled and he was so dizzy he could hardly see those piercing, green eyes as they met his.

James laughed with his audience, and flicked his wand up and down a few times, and to Severus's dismay, his body jerked up and down in precise cadence. He snarled at James, though yelping and biting his lip while his insides lurched threateningly. His limbs flopped up and down helplessly, until he tried with a fierce determination to struggle and fight the force.

He knew it was futile. The physical muscle of the body could never co-exist with the mental capacity of the magical mind. Who was he to challenge this?

But he had to try.

Severus struggled with all his might as James began to swirl his wand in small circles, and soon he was flipped around in odd angles, and had the sudden sensation that he was falling sideways – or maybe sideways falling, he wasn't too sure.

He yelled in frustration and helplessness as he only felt the movements speed up, and he knew he was seconds from passing out.

He vaguely heard someone's voice shout in disgust about something or other, and before he knew it, the force was instantly gone and he was on the ground. He hadn't even felt himself hit.

Pushing his mind back into one piece was difficult, but he managed it, and as his vision focused he saw that James was nervously messing his hair up more than it already was, and talking to some girl. He also realized that he was upside down and in fact on his back in some awkward angle

Groaning, Severus pulled himself up into a sitting position and suppressed the urge to vomit. He flicked his eyes over to the person nearest him, and found Remus sitting on the ground with a text book, staring right back at him. The shaggy-haired student quickly looked away. Not that Severus had anything against Remus – he'd never made fun of him – but he still hated him. He hated him for never standing up for him when he needed it.

He glared harshly at Remus and scoffed, carefully standing up on wobbly knees. He looked at Sirius, who was doubled over in silent laughter at the sight that Severus had been subjected to just seconds before, and he didn't even give him a glance. Pig wasn't worth it.

Then Severus looked at James. His young face twisted into a despising scowl and he literally felt his blood boiling. Oh, how he hated James Potter, with every living bit of his being, he hated him.

James glanced at him quickly, but just as fast was back talking to the girl who had stopped the assault.

Severus turned to her to offer a somewhat grateful look, but then saw she wasn't even looking at him. He was talking to James. Sure, she was nice, and she just didn't like the idea of bullying. She had not done it for him, not really.

In abrupt, quick movements, he stooped and grabbed his fallen textbooks and barely gave himself a chance to get a good grip on them before he was stalking out of the main courtyard. That angry glare never left his eyes.

Severus burst into his commons main room and sprinted up the stairs to the boy's dormitories. Slamming the door behind him, he stomped over to his bed and threw his books forcefully on the mattress, shouting suddenly in outrage. Lucky for him, he was the only one there.

Growling softly to himself, he offered a glance to the small mirror on the wall near him.

Severus was not an attractive boy, especially at his youthful age of seventeen. His hair was jet-black and overgrown – he mentally noted that it needed cut – and as usual was greasy, and lank. He brushed that thought away; he was much too busy studying to care about hygiene quite as much as the other students. Sure, he bathed, but he saw no need to do so every day.

His face was oval-shaped, and slim, so that his jaw and chin was not very strong or developed just yet. His nose was not yet as prominent as it would be in his later years, but still had the unattractive hook along the bridge. His shoulders were broad for his form, but compared to other boys his frame was quite skinny. Though he was taller than most of his fellow students, he was more easily described as lanky.

Severus sighed to himself. Why couldn't he be attractive, like most of the other students? Or at least charming and friendly, like those who were able to compensate for good looks?

Feeling the familiar prick of tears behind his eyes, he held them back defiantly and went about his usual ritual when he was having a bad day.

Reaching under his bed, he pulled out a large, black guitar case, and placed it carefully on his bed. Lifting the latches, he opened the case to reveal a wooden, acoustic-style guitar with seven strings and a Slytherin guitar pick tucked safely between a few of them.

Climbing onto his bed, he sat with his legs crossed, propped the guitar in its proper position, grabbed the pick and began strumming random tunes.

The sounds echoed along the strings and into his fingertips as he played a new song edgily that he was trying to learn, and savored the feel as the sounds traveled along his nervous system and gave him chills.

Sure, most people could just use wands and magic to make instruments play themselves, but those who were seen as true musicians – at least, so thought Severus – were ones who took the time, effort, and passion to play an instrument by hand.

Picking at the strings, he felt a tear trail down his cheek, and savagely wiped it away before continuing his playing. He was angry at himself. He was angry at James, at Sirius, at Remus. He was angry at Dumbledore for ever picking him up off the street, and he was angry at Hogwarts for being here to make his life hell. He was angry at everyone and everything that existed.

The beat abruptly changed as he let his emotions play, and a brash, rough tune unfolded before his very eyes on the guitar. He played it fiercely, glaring down at his own hands, thinking about his anger. Faster, harder, faster, harder, play, play, harder….

Severus shouted out in rage as one of the strings snapped and recoiled against his face painfully. He didn't even check if it broke the skin. He sighed, calming himself, and muttered a soft, "Repairo." Putting the guitar back in its case, he latched it shut and tucked it back under his bed.

He needed to study.

**A/N:** And finally, the chapter is over. My back hurts. Please review and tell me what you think. (First chapter edited!)


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